


koldt bjerg

by CampionSayn



Series: September Morning Bells [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Post-Second War with Voldemort, adults being ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26310799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampionSayn/pseuds/CampionSayn
Summary: "You deserve each other. You're both little children."
Relationships: Sybill Trelawney & Firenze
Series: September Morning Bells [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906099
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	koldt bjerg

She stopped drinking quite so heavily as to actually be labeled a drunk. She attended all of her classes completely sober and without theatrics.  
  
She started wearing her hair in a ridiculously scruffy bun--but it was the best she could do with hair like that.  
  
Minerva caught her wearing sensible jeans, a soft cotton wool cardigan, and only one shawl that made her look like some exotic moth from over seas.  
  
Perhaps the straw should have been noted as breaking when Trelawney didn't wear shoes to her Friday class on the last week of September and ate an entire red onion during lunch when it became obvious she had been aiming for the apple bowl and became so lost in thought she didn't even notice.  
  
  
  
Hagrid saw Sybill march out into the forest, still no shoes on her feet, wand in the back pocket of her jeans, muttering obscenities even as she slowly became a tiny, seething, noisy dot in his line of sight.  
  
  
The way it was told later, with a certain amount of annoyance and a charming smile--depending on the storyteller--Trelawney made her way through throngs of Devil's Snare, slipped and trounced through many small brooks and streams, ignored hoards of bats flying out in the night, and came upon at least half a dozen centaurs before the night was over.  
  
Each time, she huffed, asking if they had seen, "The blond haired white pelt with dumb ears?" endured the looks of confusion, and then took whatever directions were given to her.  
  
  
The night was darkest, the moon hiding behind clouds by the time she literally crashed through a row of berry bushes, right into a small cluster of centaurs stargazing; three of them standing bolt upright and grabbing for their weapons.  
  
The fourth, however, remained calmly on the ground, legs tucked under him and impressive blue eyes full of amusement as Sybill found her feet and looked directly at him.  
  
  
She blinked twice, completely ignoring how the other centaurs had raised arrows to aim at her, and spoke plainly with an air of being much put-upon, "Good. You're alive."  
  
  
Firenze spoke with a softness that ingrained whispers of kindness even as he meant to impart acerbity; crossing his arms and looking her over as she shook off leaf and vine, dirt and grit, focus settling on her pale feet and ten toes covered in mud, "Of course. You saw me leave after the Battle, didn't you?"  
  
"I saw you leave covered in your own blood and got the Divination position all to myself again when term resumed. It's not the same thing."  
  
  
 _'Wasn't sure_ ,' rang clearly between them, as well as, _'I was worried,'_ which Sybill would never say aloud.  
  
  
She crossed her arms to mimic him, but he completely saw the way she kept sneaking glances at the scar along his hind leg.   
  
  
Firenze loosened his posture and waved his herdmates away, rising from his position to tower over her and regain that little look he'd grown accustomed to seeing on her face when she tried to speak with him and was irked she had to tilt her head back.  
  
  
He circled her once, taking in how much--how little--she'd changed.  
  
  
He did not allow her to walk back to the castle on her own, even as she tried to flee when she finally realized she'd literally wandered through the Forbidden Forest just to check on him. She did not take him up the offer of a ride on his back, even after the tenth time she slipped in a puddle or into another small stream.  
  
  
The walk back to the castle included all the trappings their antagonistic relationship had always included, but without the bite.  
  
  
(He'd missed her, too.)


End file.
